


Stitch Me Up

by Angiestrangelittlecorner



Series: Angst one-shots [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Chat noir's got a wound, Major Character Injury, Marichat, Marinette can sew, So....., Vigilantism, a lil angsty, but uh...i love it, feel like there's a bunch of fics like these, not too graphic, pretty light tho considering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:29:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angiestrangelittlecorner/pseuds/Angiestrangelittlecorner
Summary: Of course, after being so helpful in saving his friend’s life, his luck turned on him again, and he would up bleeding on Marinette’s bathroom floor.Yeah, this is the best way to spend my Friday nights.As Marinette returned with the ice, however, looking concerned, yet every bit angelic as she always seemed to, he thought that maybe there were worse ways to spend it.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, marichat - Relationship
Series: Angst one-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1492598
Comments: 1
Kudos: 114





	Stitch Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> I realize my title is terrible and I have a fic that's literally a chapter away from being complete, but I love this trope soooooo....enjoy!!!

**2.02K**

Standing in the lobby of ESMOD, holding her finished dress in one arm, Marinette cursed as she dialed Alya’s number, the pouring rain outside hitting the window like bullets.

Alya answered on the third ring. “Hey girl, what’s up?”

“My tires were slashed.”

“What!?” She heard shuffling on the other end- Alya probably getting up from writing an article. “Oh my god it’s coming down _hard_ outside!”

Marinette hummed in agreement as she heard the jingle of keys and the closing of a door. Wind filled Marinette’s phone speakers and she pulled away at the volume.

Once she knew Alya was in the car, she asked, “Hey, how long ‘till you’d get here?”

The sound of an engine failing to start echoed in the background. “Uh…that depends if the car wants to start.”

Marinette’s heart sunk in her chest. _Are you_ serious _?_ Only she would have luck this bad.

After four more failed attempts, Marinette sighed. “It’s fine. It’s not too far, I’ll take the bus.”

There was a pause. “I can call Nino.”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“Marinette, it’s not safe this late.”

Marinette scoffed. “Oh, come on, who’s going to attack me in the pouring rain.”

“Maybe the guy who slashed your tires?” Alya grumbled.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette laughed. “Okay, sure. Look, I’ll be safe. I’ll text you along the way.”

“You better.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Holding you to that.”

Marinette ended the call and took a deep breath, bracing herself for the walk to the bus shelter. She scowled at her broken umbrella and wrapped her coat around her assignment.

“I really have to get a serger.” She grumbled, stepping out into the cold rain with a shudder. “I better get a good mark on this assignment.”

It had stopped raining, but the wind blew against her as she walked, and her Jacket was picked up by it and flew out of her arms. She cried out as she chased after it into an empty street.

As she picked it up and spun, she watched with dismay as her bus continued past her stop. “No! Wait!” She cried, picking her assignment up as it slipped in her arms and chasing down the street she’d wandered into.

She was stopped in her tracks as a man slipped out from the shadows. “No ride? What’s wrong girlie? Car trouble?”

Marinette gulped. Alya had been right. “You slashed my tires.”

The man grinned in response and stepped towards her, into the dim light.

His face was clean shaven, but bore scars here and there, and she briefly wondered if he’d simply gotten them by shaving badly, or something worse. His teeth were perfectly straight, and he looked in shape.

The entire thing was absurd. This man did _not_ look like someone who might attack her. That was the most horrifying part of it. Her attacker looked so completely _normal_. He was the kind of person you’d overlook in a crowd, an extra in a movie.

“What do you want? I only have a little money, but you can have it. Please, just leave me alone.”

In any normal situation- not that this could ever be normal- Marinette wouldn’t be afraid. She could handle herself. However, her hands were full, her backpack was heavy, and she was _exhausted_. Eyeing the build on the man, she realized she didn’t stand a chance.

“I don’t want money.” He rasped, and Marinette resisted the urge to scream as she saw him take something out of his pocket. It flashed silver.

Her back hit the wall. The man brought the knife up to her face. _Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god._ As the man came closer, she readied herself to knee him where it hurt. That would buy her at least a few seconds to get away.

In her pocket, Alya’s ringtone chimed it’s familiar melody and her heart sunk. She’d assured Alya that she would be fine, and Alya had let her go. She’d have to live with the guilt-

Marinette yelped as something dropped onto the man from above. She saw a flash of blonde and the pair went down.

A man in black was pummeling his fists into Marinette’s attacker. _Chat Noir?_

She watched uselessly as the man managed to free himself from Chat Noir and swiped at him with a knife. She didn’t need to hear his grunt to know he’d been cut.

Marinette wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. One moment the man was coming at Chat Noir again, raising the knife, the next Chat Noir was behind him, delivering a swift hit to the back of the man’s head with his baton, effectively knocking him out cold.

Marinette started, shocked, as Chat Noir stood over the man’s limp form, breathing heavily. He raised his eyes to meet hers. “You’re him. You’re Chat Noir.” She said, stupidly.

The masked man let out a breathy laugh, walking towards her with a slight limp. “Are you alright?”

She narrowed her eyes at his smirk. “Are you? You’re limping. I could have probably taken care of it myself, anyways.” A complete lie, and they both knew it.

“Probably. But then I wouldn’t get to be your knight in shining leather.” He shot her with a winning smile, and she snorted despite the flutter.

She obviously had a weakness for blonde boys. “Well, thanks anyways. I should probably head home.” She nodded dumbly in thanks and turned to go, when an arm looped around her waist and she shot into the air.

Marinette screamed. “What is _wrong_ with you!” She shouted into his ears as he laughed. _The nerve_!

Marinette held on tight, shutting her eyes as the pair vaulted across the city. They landed on the street in front of her apartment and she gaped at him. “You know where I _live_?” His eyes widened.

“I saw you before, coming out of here. I just guessed.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck in a way that was annoyingly familiar.

“Oh my god.” She whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth.

She froze then, pulling her hand away to stare at it. “Oh my god.” She repeated, and their eyes met in fear, albeit for different reasons. “You’re bleeding.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked relieved. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t. You saved my life, now I’m going to thank you by cleaning that up for you.” She pointed to the balcony. “My room’s there. Let’s go.”

Chat Noir seemed to shock to argue, and he nodded, vaulting them to her balcony. The wind had died down and Marinette saw in dismay that a number of her plants had been knocked over. She’d have to clean that later.

As she set her things down in her room, Chat Noir sat comfortably on her bed, watching her with an odd curiosity. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you get of my bed before you cover my sheets in water and blood?”

He grinned sheepishly and rolled off with a wince, following Marinette as she beckoned him over to her bathroom. She pointed to the floor. “Sit.”

He sat.

“Now, take off your shirt.”

He spluttered. “What?”

“You’re bleeding, and I need to see the wound. Unless there’s a hospital you can go to?” She raised a brow. He shook his head and grunted as he struggled to shrug off the open jacket. She helped him, and then tugged at the long-sleeved shirt that was beneath.

He gulped and eyed her warily.

“Relax. You’re not my type.” _Wow, lying a lot today, are we Marinette?_

His eyes met hers in what could be perceived as shock, but allowed her to tug off his shirt, nonetheless.

She couldn’t figure out why she was shocked that Chat Noir had the perfect body.

If you asked Marinette who the most beautiful person in the world was, she’d easily reply, no questions asked, _Adrien Agreste._ He was like the sun, shining, soft, precise, and warm. He was beautiful inside and out.

But, if Adrien was the sun, Chat Noir was the Moon, a fallen angel- beautiful, but dangerous, and mischievous. A heart of silver, rather than gold.

Marinette mentally slapped herself as her heart fluttered. _You're being ridiculous._

His eyes seemed to search hers as she rested her eyes on his wound. On his chest lay a large slash of opened skin, wet with blood.

With shaking hands, Marinette cleaned it, pushing down the unease as he hissed in pain.

“Sorry.” The words slipped past her lips before she was really sure what she was apologizing for.

He laughed weakly. “Don’t be, Princess. This isn’t your fault.” She shot him a look. He raised a brow. “It’s _not_.”

She didn’t bother arguing. “You’re going to need stitches.”

“Wait, what? You’re going to- “

“I’m a fashion student. Trust me, you’re lucky I’m the one stitching you up.”

He gulped but smiled slightly at her confidence.

She readied the thread, and for the first time since they met, they lapsed into an awkward silence.

“So…” He began, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I never threw it.” _Wow. Really Marinette_

He chuckled. “I already know where you live, what’s the problem with a name?”

She turned. “Alright. Let’s do this.:

His smiled dropped and he nodded. “Okay.”

She bit her lip and moved close, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder and leaning close. He cleared his throat, but when she looked at him, his eyes were turned away. _He would_ not _have been able to do this on his own. He can’t even look at it._

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth but fell to seriousness as she prepared herself to sew him up.

Placing a hand on his chest to hold together the open skin, Marinette tried not to gag as she began stitching his wound.

Chat Noir gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head in pain. Halfway through, she heard a noise and realised his pain.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should have put ice to numb it, I’m so sorry!” She panicked, running to the kitchen, leaving Chat Noir breathing in pain on her bathroom floor.

Adrien did not expect his night to turn out like this.

As Marinette sprinted to get ice, he breathed a sigh of relief, both from the pain, and for the close proximity they’d been in.

Adrien, as Chat Noir, had been patrolling around Paris when the rain hid, and had taken cover near Marinette’s school as the wind blew ruthlessly. As it died down, he saw her running into the empty street, and stopped to keep an eye on her.

Fortunately, fate had been on his side for the night at first, as he’d never have forgiven himself if something happened to her and he _hadn’t_ been there.

Of course, after being so helpful in saving his friend’s life, his luck turned on him again, and he would up bleeding on Marinette’s bathroom floor.

_Yeah, this is the best way to spend my Friday nights._

As Marinette returned with the ice, however, looking concerned, yet every bit angelic as she always seemed to, he thought that maybe there were worse ways to spend it.

Marinette leaned towards him again, and his breath caught in his chest. Her eyelashes cast a shadow over her cheeks, and her hair, wet from the rain, hung in strands around her face as it dried. Her lips and cheeks were flushed, and he yearned, not for the first time that night, nor as long as he’d known her for, to kiss her. He was no artist and yet found himself wanting to draw the lines connecting her freckles like a children’s paper game.

The ice snapped him out of the dream-like state he’d been in, and he hissed. “That’s _cold_.”

She rolled her eyes, and for a brief moment he wanted to smile…

Without warning, she began stitching again, but he could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile before the pain kicked in again.


End file.
